


we are the outsiders

by thesilverwitch



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Genderbending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverwitch/pseuds/thesilverwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee Shop!AU with no superpowers where Peter is a tired college student who is in love with double espressos and has a crush on 'MJ Watson - aspiring actor and gorgeous part-time worker at the dingy coffee shop near Stark Tower'. Peter's very own words.</p><p>Genderbend where MJ is a guy and looks exactly like Michael B Jordan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are the outsiders

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the summary, this fic features a guy as MJ and it has explicit M/M content, so if you're not down with that, don't read!
> 
> Cheers x

The worst day of the week is Tuesday.

On Tuesday, Peter has classes that start at half past seven and end at five p.m., a fifteen minute lunch break that he mostly spends on walking from one side of campus to another for his next class instead of eating, and then three hours of unpaid work at the Daily Bugle after classes are over.

It’s not all bad. Peter is riding on a full scholarship at Empire State University, majoring in Journalism and minoring in Genetics because the university’s program is amazing and he’d be an idiot to not take advantage of it. Work at the Bugle can be both exciting, when they’re short staffed and send Peter out to interview people and do actual journalistic work, and the biggest drag in the world, when there’s nothing to do and Peter is left getting coffees for everyone. It doesn’t pay, but it makes his résumé look nice and his counselor had assured him it was too good of an opportunity for him not to take.

"Internship at one of the biggest journals in America? You'd be a lunatic not to take it, kid."

Peter knows he's right, but he'd still prefer a job that helps pay the bills.

It is all quite tiresome and frustrating. There are days - many in fact, not just on Tuesdays - where all Peter wants to do is lie down, cry for a bit and then take a nap for the next three hundred and sixty five days. Getting the guy next door to stop watching anime all day and night on his speakers would also help, but hey, he’s not picky.

Life overall is just… tiresome. It's good, and his prospects for the future are even better, but there are days where dragging himself out of bed feels like the hardest chore in the world and looking back, Peter can't remember the last time he had fun or even laughed. He barely has any friends, mostly just acquaintances from work and school, and the worst part is that he doesn't even care to make any friends because there's just no time.

Peter is lucky enough to have the time to visit Aunt May on the weekends and take five coffee breaks every day as it is.

Speaking of coffee, Peter forces himself to look up from his textbook -  The World Of Genetic Engineering by Reed Richards - to place his last order of the day for liquid energy. "Double espresso with skim milk and a cheese sandwich to take away."

The guy at the cash register smiles at him as he takes his order. He has soft brown eyes, dark skin and long hands. Peter notices all of this the same way he notices that he has no food in his fridge back in his dorm room, that Aunt May hasn't payed her electricity bill yet and that he has three papers due the end of the week. He notices this as facts, simple statements of how reality looks, but then he lingers on the guy's smile - 'MJ Watson' his nametag reads - and Peter doesn't see a fact. He sees something that has him practically swooning like a Princess in a Disney movie. He sees something that has him staring for longer than he should because that's a brilliant smile, the kind people write odes about and makes Peter wish he had more time so he could see it again.

"Late night?" MJ asks as he takes Peter's ten dollar bill, making Peter splutter for words - and when does that ever happen? - before he gets a grip on himself.

"Yeah, I think my professors are trying to kill me. Three papers due the end of this week and another four the next. Ah... The joys of university."

"You go to Empire State? What are you majoring in?" he asks, moving around the counter as he gets Peter’s sandwich and turns on the espresso machine.

There’s no queue behind Peter, which gives them both freedom to talk leisurely without getting nasty looks from other customers. Not that Peter has any plans to chat for long. Maybe crack a joke or two to get MJ to smile again - Peter’s good at that - but as soon as he has his food he’s leaving. His scholarship isn’t going to maintain itself, unfortunately.

Peter nods. "Journalism and Genetics," he says, which makes MJ look up in the middle of making Peter's coffee and lift his eyebrows in surprise.

“My aunt says I’m a bit of an overachiever,” he says with a small smile to indicate that he’s joking. He gets a desired laugh out of MJ, which only makes his own smile increase a tenfold. “What about you? Is working at a coffee shop the dream?”

Another laugh, this time slower and accompanied by a shake of his head. “Dream is to become an actor. Current situation is English at ESU and part-time work at a coffee shop.”

Peter nods again. Acting is good dream to have, even if hard one to turn into reality. MJ has got the looks though, absolutely no doubt about that, and he’s got charm as well, a nice collection of tips on the tip jar proving it. If anyone can follow Brad Pitt’s footsteps and become the next big superstar, Peter thinks MJ - this guy he’s literally just met but he wishes he knew more of - can do it.

“Well then, good luck with your dream, MJ Watson. I hope you let me interview you when you become famous.”

“Thank you...” A silent question that Peter finds himself immediately answering.

“Peter. Peter Parker.”

“I’d be delighted to let you interview me, Peter Parker.”

As he leaves the coffee shop, Jim wonders if he and MJ just flirted with each other and realizes that he has no clue. The last person he’d flirted with had been Gwen, and he hasn’t seen or talked to her in years now. Even back then, Peter’s idea of flirting had been bad jokes and copies of photographs taken by him, which were neither subtle nor romance in a bottle but seemed to do the trick anyway.

Peter decides not to think too much of it. He’s got far too much on his plate at the moment to be able to afford adding ‘Crush on MJ Watson - aspiring actor and gorgeous part-time worker at the dingy coffee shop near Stark Tower’.

A mouthful of the espresso MJ made him has him adding ‘that makes awesome, delicious coffee’ to the list.

\-----

He goes back the next day. 

He honestly doesn’t mean to, only his body is begging him for coffee and the shop is only twenty minutes away from university, and since Peter has a long lunch hour and no one to spend it with, going back to Wade Café is the only logical thing to do, right? He and MJ can talk again. Or not. MJ might be swamped with work and unable to talk to him, or he might have forgotten Peter already and won’t even give him a second glance this time, yesterday’s encounter a fluke created by boredom.

Never mind that there’s a more affordable, bigger coffee shop inside Empire State University where Peter’s scholarship gets him a fifty percent discount on everything.

Stark Tower casts a huge shadow over the shop, which makes it look even dingier and smaller than it already did. This is quite the feat considering the place only has three tables and smells suspiciously of smoke. They do make great coffee, or at least MJ does, so there’s always that.

Peter enters the shop slowly in a way he hopes looks casual. There’s a smile already in place in the corners of his lips, but it quickly fades away when he sees the person on the counter is a small, blonde woman and MJ is nowhere to be seen.

He orders the same thing he got yesterday, doesn’t notice the way the woman looks or checks her nametag and goes back to campus feeling like a perfect idiot.

He doesn’t know what he’d been thinking, wasting all that time walking around just for the chance to see the same coffee shop worker when there’s so much else he has to do.

Good coffee and cute smiles shouldn’t be priority altering things, and yet look at him now. If Uncle Ben could see him, he’d say Peter’s experiencing a little thing called ‘love’, but Uncle Ben’s not there, so Peter lets himself think he’s just tired and pretends the whole thing never happened.

\-----

He doesn’t go back the next day, or the next, or the one after that.

The coffee shop is too far away from University for him to trek backwards and forwards all the time and eventually he stops thinking about MJ Watson - aspiring actor and gorgeous part-time worker at the dingy coffee shop near Stark Tower that makes awesome, delicious coffee every time he orders his trusty, old double espresso.

It’s only after two weeks of visiting other coffee shops that Peter finally goes back to Wade’s Café for another late meal. This is because Wade’s Café, while far away from university, is right in the middle of Peter’s journey back to his dorm room after work at the Bugle. He usually doesn’t drink coffee after work, but on Tuesdays there’s always too much to do and not enough time, which is how he finds himself back at where he told himself not go anymore and look at that, MJ is at the counter.

“Hello, haven’t seen you in a while,” MJ says. He’s smiling just like he had been the first time they met, which makes Peter feels like an absolute dick because this might not be flirting – he’s honestly not sure – but it’s nice anyway. It’s the sort of nice that wraps around your bones like a warm blanket and leaves you feeling more comfortable than you were before. The sort of nice that you really, really want to keep.

“School got a bit hectic,” Peter lies, “I lost my camera in a tree and had to go on a six-hour journey through campus in its search just the other night,” he adds, which is not a lie because Peter’s life is oh, so hilarious like that.

“In a tree?”

Peter blushes and scratches the back of his neck. “I saw a squirrel wave a stick like a sword. Couldn’t help myself.”

MJ lets out a loud laugh and Peter wishes his camera wasn’t in his backpack so he could take a picture of the moment. After the laughter has died down, he asks, “Double espresso and a cheese sandwich to take away?”

“Yes, please,” Peter says, and then, after a pregnant pause and without thinking, he adds, “but not to take away. I’ll eat here.”

In return to his request he gets a soft, slightly puzzled smile that makes him feel  embarrassed of himself and the way he’d just assumed their little chat meant something else because confusion isn’t what Peter was looking for. He doesn’t know what the smile MJ gives him means - he’s really rubbish at reading people he might have, might not have a crush on - only that it’s not good. 

He pays for his food and eats it quietly in a corner, book and pen in his hand the whole time since he has to catch up on work and he doesn’t want to look up and see MJ eyeing him in confusion again.

When he leaves the coffee shop, MJ smiles at him and there’s no confusion or distrust in his face. There’s just a really gorgeous smile that Peter can’t quite believe is being directed at him.

\-----

“I just wish you’d go out more. Make some friends,” the voice crackles over the phone, charged with pity and guilt.

“I go out plenty. I’m almost never in my dorm room.”

“That’s not what I meant, Peter.”

Peter sighs and kicks a small stone that’s on the ground. “I know, Aunt May. I just...” he trails off, not sure of what he wants to say.

He just what? Doesn’t have the time? The social skills? The looks? The money? He doesn’t even know anymore.

“Promise me you’ll try to meet more people,” she says, fully in the knowledge that Peter won’t be able to say ‘no’ when it sounds like it physically pains her that Peter doesn’t have more friends. It probably does, which is ridiculous because Peter is doing fine. He doesn’t need a big circle of friends to be happy. He has Aunt May and he goes out from time to time with some of his classmates and it’s enough. It is.

“I promise,” he says even though he knows he won’t, “and I have met someone.”

“Someone?”

“Just a guy that works in the coffee shop I go to on Tuesdays. We’ve talked a bit, nothing special,” he finishes lamely, unsure of what came over him and made him mention MJ to his aunt.

She hums slowly in compression and then changes the topic quickly; she’s always better at this kind of stuff than Peter. She asks him a couple more questions (“Have you been eating? You looked a bit too thin last weekend.” “How is school? I hope you’re not tiring yourself too much.” “If you need anything, you know you can ask me, right? I love you, Peter.”) before he tells her he needs to go, class is about to start.

“Alright, stay safe and tell your new  friend I’d love to meet him,” she says.

Despite not being able to see her, Peter knows she’s just winked at him.

“He’s not a friend, Aunt May. I met him just the other week.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, dear.”

He sighs again, but smiles a little despite himself. She’s never going to let this go, but at least now she thinks Peter has a  friend,  which is better than her thinking Peter wants to become an hermit oyster. The sad thing is that MJ is not even a normal, regular, platonic friend, much less a friend .

It’d be nice though, if MJ really were a  friend . He’d teach Peter the art of making delicious double espressos, which Peter has never mastered despite trying multiple times. They’d share Peter’s tiny bed in his tiny dorm room, and they’d be cramped and mushed together and somehow still ridiculously comfortable. Peter would make him breakfast - eggs on toast, orange juice and maybe pancakes - and leave lame jokes on post-it notes for MJ to find since he already does that to himself anyway. They’d kiss a lot, because MJ has a great mouth and Peter wants to know if he’s a great kisser as well.

“Peter Parker! I was wondering if I was ever going to meet you here,” somebody to his left says and Peter turns to see the object of his affections standing in front of him.

He looks nice. Tight blue polo wrapped around his shoulders in a way that looks almost criminal, black jeans, a couple of textbooks beneath his arm and a backpack on just one of his shoulders because it’s cool being cool. He looks much nicer than Peter in his old coat, old sweater, old jeans and nearly-dead shoes.

“MJ,” Peter sounds a bit breathless from the shock. He almost asks what MJ is doing there when he remembers that they both go to ESU. He ends up cutting himself short and struggling to find something else to say.

Finally, when the awkward silence begins to stretch uncomfortably around them like a wet blanket, Peter remembers Aunt May’s words and in a bizarre, mythical fit of short-thinking, he decides to honor his promise.

“Do you always work nights?” he asks.

“No, only on Tuesday. Why?”

Peter takes a deep breath and lets out the next words as quickly as possible. “I was wondering if we could go out? Maybe?”

MJ doesn’t even pause to think. “As friends?”

Peter doesn’t need to stop either. “As whatever you want.”

MJ smiles. He does that a lot, Peter thinks. “It’s a date. I finish work at seven on Fridays.”

Peter’s matching smile begins to take form on its own and Peter is powerless against it. “I’ll be there.”

They both nod at each other, smiles still in place, before they go off their separate ways.

At the exact moment Peter enters the High Science building, it hits him that he just asked MJ on a date when he doesn’t even know his first name, or his phone number, or what he likes to do on a date. In fact, Peter knows very little about MJ except how he looks, which, granted, kind of makes it all worth it.

Nevertheless, Peter still writes himself a mental note reminding him to figure out if MJ is a dick with a nice smile on their date, since he doesn’t think he can date someone awful, no matter how good they might look.

Alright. Maybe for a little while.

\-----

Peter is at Wade’s Café ten minutes before MJ’s shift ends, so he ends up just standing by the door and occasionally sneaking a glance inside as he lets the seconds pass him by.

He’s picked a restaurant for them to go to, not too expensive, not too shabby, just on the right side of affordable. Uncle Ben taught him that it’s the job of the person who sets the date to pay for both meals, so Peter has enough money in his wallet to pay for two full dinners and some drinks, although frankly he has no idea if the… guidelines are the same in a date between two men.

Peter’s romantic interactions with the same sex are limited to a pathetic crush on his friend, Harry Osborn, which lasted a month in Peter’s freshman year of college. The crush was mainly characterized by two things. One was random, innocents thoughts of Harry – how he looked, how he laughed, how he liked to hug Peter every time they saw each other off campus – showing up in his mind whenever they fancied. The other was the creation of lots of dirty fantasies that quickly spread like a virus through Peter’s brain and left his boxers straining embarrassingly at the worst moments.

You could say that month was one of self-discovery for Peter, only that would imply Peter ever cared much about his sexuality or what other people thought of it, which he didn’t. It was mostly just embarrassing because Harry was his roommate and Peter knew he was straight, but his brain always chose to ignore this at the most inconvenient moments.

“So,” MJ says as he closes the coffee shop door behind him, pulling Peter away from his thoughts, “where are you taking me, Peter Parker?”

“To a small restaurant near the park. You have to climb five blocks of stairs to get there, but they serve really good pasta so it’s worth it.”

MJ nods, pleased with the answer. They fall into step easily, walking side by side with their arms brushing every so often. They don’t speak for a while, which should be weird but for some reason isn’t. It’s comfortable, like they don’t need to speak to enjoy each other’s company.

Nevertheless, Peter still breaks the fake peace that encloses them in the midst of chaotic New York to ask something that’s been bugging him for some time now.

“By the way, why do you always call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Peter Parker. You can just call me Peter.”

MJ takes a while to reply Peter’s question, as if he himself isn’t sure of the answer. “Don’t know, guess I just like the sound of your name. Peter Parker. It’s a good name.”

“Oh,” Peter says. No one’s ever told him he had a good name before. Is that a thing people do now? Just tell each other they have good names? Seems like a nice thing to do. “Thank you, I think. What about you?”

“Michael Jay Watson. But I prefer MJ.”

Peter nods. Michael Jay. That’s a good name too. He then laughs at himself and the way he’s been acting. If a stranger were to look at him, they’d think he hasn’t had a proper social interaction with a human being in years.

MJ stares at him, clueless as to what’s so funny.

“Sorry,” Peter says, “I’m just a bit nervous. I don’t go out much these days.”

“Don’t worry, I’m nervous too.”

“Really?” Peter asks. MJ looks the opposite of nervous; he looks confident and relaxed while Peter is busy laughing at his own jokes like a total weirdo.

“A gorgeous, brilliant, hard-working guy like you going out with an aspiring actor that works part-time at a shitty coffee shop like me? Doesn’t happen very often.”

Peter shakes his head. MJ is so much more than an aspiring actor that works part-time at a shitty coffee shop. He’s funny, charming and he has to be smart and dedicated if he goes to ESU.

Still, it’s nice to feel like he’s at the same level as MJ for once. It makes it far easier for him to feel like he’s allowed to be himself without having to worry about looking pathetic.

“You don’t know if I’m hard-working. I could just be stealing people’s papers and turning them in as my own. I could be a major con artist, you know,” Peter says.

“Are you?”

“Nah, but the point is I totally could be. I could have a secret monocle that I only wear when I’m partaking in criminal activities! I could be a terror of the night.”

MJ throws his head back and laughs. “Well, you’d still have to be smart to be a major con artist.”

Peter waves him off. “Whatever, I could have learnt it all from Google.”

From then on things go far more smoothly. Peter doesn’t feel nervous anymore. He faces each roadblock - should he pull MJ’s chair for him? Order wine? - that tries to stop him with his head held high. The wine also helps, but Peter limits himself to two glasses, otherwise he’ll have trouble finding his way home.

MJ lets Peter be a gentleman and pay for both their meals only after they both agree MJ will pay on their next date, which makes Peter smile since it means there will be a next date.

They hesitate on what they should do next once outside the restaurant and down five blocks of stairs. Peter’s not sure if he’s allowed to kiss MJ or ask him back to his place, only that he’d very much like to do both those things.

He takes a step forward and licks his lips, words stuck on his throat. MJ follows the movement of his tongue with his eyes. Maybe just a tiny kiss. That can’t be inappropriate after a first date, can it?

Peter raises his hand to grip MJ’s jacket and pull him closer, but just when his hand is about to meet the leather fabric a scream from the other side of the street breaks him from his reverie.

“Help! That man just stole my purse! Help!” an old woman screams, hands clutched to her chest and hair in disarray.

Peter doesn’t think before he acts. He simply sees the thief cross the street to where he is and then he starts running, long legs punching the ground as he goes after him. People move away as he runs, watching in a mix of surprise in horror as Peter passes by them.

The chase doesn’t take very long. MJ is right behind him and they catch up to the thief in seconds. Peter jumps on him and MJ snatches the purse from his hands. The thief throws Peter off him easily and before he sets off again, but this time they don’t bother following him.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much!” the old woman says when they give her back her purse. She hugs them and gives them both a kiss on the cheek.

“It was nothing, ma’am,” Peter says, smiling ruefully as the woman keeps layering them with compliments.

“Come on. We’ve gotta celebrate this. There’s too much adrenaline in my blood for us to slow down now.” MJ says after the old woman goes on her way. Peter looks at him in confusion, but doesn’t say anything as MJ takes his arm and leads them into a shallower street.

After five minutes of walking they come across a well-illuminated alley full of people. From it comes the sound of brain crushing music.

“I know the owner of this club. He’s an old friend.” MJ says right into Peter’s ears as they bypass the queue. A couple of people give them nasty looks, but the bouncer at the door just grins at them and lets them in with a small wave.

The music inside the club is far louder than it was in the street. It ricochets off the walls and runs aimlessly through the place, passing through people’s brains to make sure no one goes home with an intact sense of hearing. The strobe lights are also a nice touch. If they could talk, Peter imagines they’d say something like, ‘Oh, so you like to see things? Ahah, not anymore, sucker!’

MJ pulls them towards the bar as Peter adjusts to having all his senses thrown into a blender. All around people push against them, some even try to grab him for a dance but MJ’s grip on his arm never wavers. Two brightly colored drinks are pushed into his hands before MJ takes his arm again and leads them towards the dancefloor.

Peter is a shitty dancer. He’s all awkward limbs, bad muscle control and sharp edges. Dancing comes as natural to him as climbing walls without support. He doesn’t practice his dance moves often either since he regards dance clubs with the same amount of love he regards big, disgusting, invulnerable cockroaches. The music is just too loud, the drinks too expensive and the heat makes him feel like he’s baking in his own sweat.

MJ, however, seems to like them. He dances fluidly with one arm in the air, another around Peter’s waist and a constant motion of his hips. There’s this beautiful smile on his face too, like he’s having the time of his life. Peter would feel like a bastard if he asked to leave, so he downs his two drinks quickly and lets the alcohol dictate his next moves.

One of his arms goes around MJ’s waist, the other around his shoulder. He puts a hand on the back of MJ’s neck and pulls him close enough that he can smell him, heavy cologne mixed with the tiniest hint of sweat. MJ laughs and follows Peter’s queue, getting closer until their bodies are moving together, with MJ pushing and Peter rolling with him.

They dance like that for a while. Just a slow movement of their bodies, a continuous line of friction and heat. They kiss and Peter has no idea who is the first to lean in, only that MJ tastes of pineapples and tomato sauce and it’s gross, is what it is, but Peter wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says. MJ nods before he takes Peter’s hand and gets them outside.

“Empire State University. East dorm rooms,” Peter tells the cabdriver as he leans back against his seat. MJ is on the other side of the cab, looking out the window with a small smile on his face. Their fingers are still laced together.

Peter spends the entire cab ride wishing he can get closer and just  touch . Touch MJ’s neck and find what it tastes like, touch the inside of his thighs and discover if he’s sensitive there, touch the small of his back and pull him closer again.

Instead, he keeps his distance because that’s what MJ is doing and Peter isn’t going to throw himself at him if the feeling isn’t mutual.

The second they’re outside the cab, Peter discovers just how wrong he is.

MJ pushes him against a street lamp, desire aflame in his every movement, and kisses Peter like he’s a dying man and this is his last lungful of air.

“Do you know how hard it is, Peter Parker,” he says against Peter’s mouth, “to take my hands off you.”

“You don’t have to,” Peter says without thinking.

MJ shakes his head, a look of frustration on his face. “Didn’t want us to get kicked out of the cab.”

Peters laughs, drunk and giddy and two ant steps away from taking off all their clothes. “I’ve got a room,” he says.

MJ nods and then they’re heading towards Peter’s room, trying to run but failing miserably as they both seem physically incapable of taking their hands off each other.

It might be the alcohol talking, but Peter has never felt more alive than he does now. He’s sure his blood is burning hotter and faster. It’s making his brain hypersensitive to everything that’s happening, slowing time down before thrusting it forward again. It’s giving Peter goosebumps all over and changing his breathing so it comes in short, hot puffs of air.

They get to Peter’s room after five long minutes of stumbling, making out against any available surface and sprinting. Peter gets the door unlocked while MJ sucks a hickey on the back of his neck.

“Clothes. We don’t need clothes,” Peter gasps as MJ pushes him into the room.

“Good point.”

Their clothes are discarded without a single care, thrown into a corner of the room as they try to get themselves naked as quickly as they can. MJ helps Peter with his pants, moving his hands in long, quick motions as he grins at Peter. There’s no edge to his grin, no predatory look in his eyes, nothing that makes Peter frightened of the fact that he’s about to have sex with a guy he barely knows, which would definitely make him uneasy if this were any other person or any other time.

There’s just heat. In the tip of MJ’s fingers, in his lips, in the air around them. It’s as distracting as it is intoxicating and Peter can’t focus on just one thing, hands and thoughts stumbling as he tries to feel everything. MJ’s shoulders are solid against his hands, his collarbones a thin line. He shudders when Peter leans in and licks his nipples, so Peter does it again and again until MJ pushes him against the bed and takes both their cocks in his hand.

“ Fuck , you have really great hands. As anyone ever told you that?” Peter asks. “Really, really great hands.”

MJ chuckles, grip tightening just a fraction as he speeds up. “And you have a great mouth that I’d love to have around my cock.”

Peter throws his head back and lets out a low groan. His hair is glued to his forehead with sweat and he knows how he must look, flushed from the tip of his ears to his toes, body tensed and ready to snap. MJ seems to like it from the way he leans down and sets to work on leaving more marks on Peter’s chest.

“We can arrange that but I want you to –  Jesus Effing Christ – I want you to fuck me. Come on.”

He rolls to his side and gets a condom and an almost empty tube of lube from his bedside table. MJ looks at him with sharp, attentive eyes as Peter pushes him against the bed and straddles his hips.

He opens the lube with his teeth - he saw someone do it in a porno once and it looked fucking hot - and spreads it luxuriously over his fingers. MJ is about to ask him what he’s doing when realization dawns on his face.

“I’ve done this before,” Peter says as he starts to stretch himself, breathless and with a smirk perfectly in place on the corner of his lips, “mostly to myself.”

“ Jesus ,” MJ breathes out. His grip on Peter’s waist tightens and Peter knows there will be a purple handprint on his hips tomorrow, maybe even for a couple of days afterwards.

The only sounds that can be heard in the tiny bedroom are their shallow breathing and the sound of Peter working himself until Peter says, “I’m ready.”

He rolls the condom down MJ’s dick, which is much bigger than his fingers, and carefully lowers himself down. MJ breathes in sharply as he watches his cock going inside Peter, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated.

The burn and the feeling of being stretched too far are both unpleasant, but there’s a promise there, a promise that it will feel good as soon as Peter starts moving and sets a rhythm, so that’s exactly what he does. He lets himself fall forward, hands on MJ’s chest for balance, and grins.

MJ’s hands slide to Peter’s ass as he helps Peter move. There’s this incredibly focused look on his face despite the fact that they’re both more on the drunk side than tipsy and Peter wonders if that’s a permanent fixture; if MJ is always like this in bed. Part of his brain short-circuits as he lets himself yes, it is.

Peter lifts one hand from MJ’s chest and begins to stroke himself in time with MJ’s thrusts, a slow, eager movement at first that quickly grows erratic. His muscles tighten, his vision whitens for a fraction of a second and, because Peter is a fan of good clichés, he feels like he’s being sucked through a black hole and spat through the other side as he comes.

He feels MJ come inside of him and then he’s being pulled into a deep, messy kiss.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” he says, dopey smile on his face before he lets himself be dragged to sleep by the weight of his weary bones.

\-----

“G’morning.”

“Morning,” Peter half says, half groans. “My head feels like it’s being hammered by a small gnome.”

“Sorry. I’ll make us both some coffee as soon as I get the strength to get up.”

Peter opens his eyes slowly, so as to avoid getting punched in the face by the sun. “Thank you,” he says. A slow, heavy warmth that has nothing to do with his hangover begins to spread through his body.

MJ is lying next to him, tucked neatly against the wall with an arm thrown over Peter’s waist and more than half the sheets under his control. He looks very good there, Peter thinks. The light from the small window behind them is just enough to let them see each other and Peter can’t help savouring the sight.

“We can go to the park later, if you want. I’ve got a paper to write and we could sunbathe for a while,” MJ says. He doesn’t look at Peter as he speaks, eyes focused on the opposite wall like he’s afraid Peter is going to reject him and he’ll be forced to watch it happen.

This is, without a doubt, the dumbest thought anyone could ever have because Peter is so stupidly, ridiculously enamoured with the man in front of him that he’d jump into a pit full of spiders if MJ asked him.

“That would be lovely,” he says. If the smile on his face is the size of an elephant it’s because he’s tired and not in full control of his body yet, not because he’s a giant pile of melted marshmallows.


End file.
